


Of Misery and Mistletoe (Holiday Ball - 1817)

by Blueotterkitty



Series: Portal Regency AU [1]
Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, Jewish Chell, Mistletoe, Mute Chell, Regency, you can't stop this headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9748850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueotterkitty/pseuds/Blueotterkitty
Summary: Duchess Gladys Darcy hated Dame Chell Toyoko-Harrington. No, that was an understatement. She absolutely despised the woman. She loathed her. She detested her. Yet she could never take her eyes off of her.Duchess Gladys Darcy is just trying to enjoy the annual Holiday Ball, but Dame Chell keeps getting in the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tappret43](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tappret43/gifts).



> Me, buried underneath a pile of half-finished Klance fics: You... you want a fic for... Valentine's Day? Here... take this two month old fic for my gal pal... I won't need it where I'm going. *dies*

Duchess Gladys Darcy hated Dame Chell Toyoko-Harrington. No, that was an understatement. She absolutely  _ despised _ the woman. She  _ loathed _ her. She  _ detested _ her. Yet she could never take her eyes off of her. 

 

Dame Chell was irritating, to be sure, but there was something to be said for her tranquil beauty. She carried this silent air of elegance with her wherever she went, a quiet confidence in her behavior and her signing. It was a virtue that most nobility didn’t have, and as only a knighted woman, it turned Dame Chell’s virtue into a fatal flaw. What lowly knight deserved to carry themselves around like that? Certainly not Dame Chell. 

 

And her refusal to make small talk at social gatherings - even when her mother was hosting the ball! Gladys didn't know how someone like her could think she was so above it all!

 

“Hello, Duchess Gladys,” said a familiar voice, and she turned to see Earl Doug Rattmann on Dame Chell’s arm. Gladys silently prayed that Chell hadn’t noticed her watching Chell across the ballroom earlier. 

 

“How are you enjoying the Holiday Ball?” Doug asked. Chell and Doug glanced at each other and grinned. Gladys felt sick to her stomach. 

 

“Oh. It’s you. Well, I suppose it is a pleasant ball. I cannot say I’m completely partial to it, but then again, social gatherings never are one way or the other. That is their only shortcoming.”

 

“Yes, well, nothing is perfect,” Doug agreed. “Not even an evening dance as magnificent as this one.” He gestured to the ballroom and the dozens of candles softly flickering overhead. 

 

_ We were wondering if you had news of Lady Curie and Lady Mora, seeing that you live nearby _ , Chell signed.  _ They do not seem to be with us for the festivities tonight.  _ Of course. Wasn’t that such a knightly thing to say? Asking after others instead of engaging in conversation with those who were actually there. This was exactly why Gladys hated Dame Chell. 

 

“Yes, well, apparently Lady Curie came down with an absolutely dreadful head cold and Lady Mora just had to remain at the estate as well to look after her dear wife. But that was just what their letter said,” Gladys explained, implying that Ladies Curie and Mora had secretly turned down the invitation to Duchess Caroline’s prestigious Holiday Ball in favor of other, more scandalous activities. 

 

Chell and Doug frowned. 

 

“I do hope she makes a quick recovery,” Doug said. “I would hate for them to miss the other festivities.”  

 

_ As would I _ , Chell added pointedly. They weren’t buying it. Gladys’s lip twitched. 

 

“In my opinion, they should have sent a messenger. To send a letter through the mail for such an important event? How preposterous.”

 

“How do you know they did  _ not _ send a messenger?” Doug asked.

 

“Instinct,” Gladys said quickly. Not like she been secretly receiving copies of all of the Harrington household’s mail to see if Chell had been receiving letters from beaus or anything. She couldn't care less about the love life and marriage aspects of a lowly knight. 

 

Chell narrowed her eyes at Gladys. Those steel cold blue eyes of hers. 

 

“Anyway,” Gladys went on, trying to stifle the red slowly seeping into her ghost white cheeks, “it is simply unprecedented to reject a calling to Duchess Caroline's gatherings. At least a brief appearance is sufficient, unless one of course is lying on their deathbed. This did not seem to be the case. And their estate is not too far by carriage. I suppose some people just don't care enough for the benefits of high society to come all the way to the ball,” Gladys scoffed. Dame Chell stared Gladys down, her pale blue eyes shards of sea glass bearing right through her. That was exactly the reaction she been hoping for.

 

_ I suppose some people care enough to wonder about the wellbeing of those not at the ball _ , Chell signed rapidly. Her gaze softened as she turned to Earl Doug and took his arm, leading him away from Gladys and disappearing into the crowd. Chell’s skirts and petticoats swished gently around her curved form, the sway of her hips a mesmerizing movement. 

 

Gladys blinked twice. She needed to find someone else to talk to. Someone to get her mind off of  _ her _ .

 

~~~~~

 

Later on, Gladys had grown tired of pretending to enjoy the ball goers’ inane small talk - what useful bits of gossip she could obtain had already been the weaseled out of the guests after their first few glasses of wine. Now Gladys roamed the halls of the Harrington estate, marveling at its architecture. Of course, it was not nearly as beautiful as Duchess Gladys’s estate, but it was far above the home Dame Chell deserved to inherit. Even if her mother Duchess Caroline had taken extra precautions to ensure it was legal for her adopted daughter to one day become Duchess Toyoko-Harrington, Dame Chell would always be a common woman at heart.

 

Gladys was just musing on this when she heard a commotion from far down the corridor. Oh. It was Dame Chell again. But who was the figure of the same height walking beside her -

 

Gladys immediately hated her entire existence on this miserable planet. It was Lord Wheatley Barrett. Of course Dame Chell would take pity on this lovestruck fool and humor his pointlessly desperate advances by inviting him on a solo walk of her home. Those starry eyed glances and peals of silent laughter had to be Dame Chell faking empathy for the pathetic imbecile, right? There was no way Chell actually liked being around that buffoon.

 

Either way, Gladys had no wish to speak with either of them tonight. They were walking towards her down the empty corridor, so it would be rude to suddenly turn the other way. But there were no side passages for Gladys to disappear down either, and alcoves seemed to be entirely missing from the otherwise flawless architecture. There was no way out of it. Someone was going to have to decapitate Gladys. There was no way she would be spending a moment with that insufferable pair. Yet Gladys let her feet carry her down the hall and closer and closer towards them.

 

It was a moment more until Chell and the moron noticed Gladys approaching. When they did, Wheatley immediately stopped in his tracks. Chell continued forward until she and Gladys were a few feet apart, meeting her eyes boldly. Gladys angled her chin so she could properly look down at the other woman. Neither of them looked away. 

 

Wheatley bumbled in, standing next to Chell. He had probably been too scared to approach until he was certain Gladys was focused on Chell instead of him. Like she would ever waste her time tormenting that moron. Chell was the only one she cared about.

 

“Are you here to pick a fight, Gladys? ‘Cause if you did, you better - you better head somewhere else. Especially after what happened last time. Last time you tried to have a go with Chell - well, you remember that, surely?”

 

“Of course I do. But I’m not here to fight. I was simply walking by.”

 

“Right. Sure you are. Well, at least you’re not fighting on Christmas. Or Hanukkah. That too.” Wheatley winced at his mistake, looking over at Chell. She shrugged. Gladys smirked. What nobility worth their salt forgot that the Harringtons were Jewish?

 

“Well, anyway - oh! There’s something up there in the rafters. That’s odd. Looks interesting, d’you know what it is?” Wheatley asked, pointing up towards the ceiling. Gladys followed Wheatley’s finger up to where a bundle of leaves and berries swung from a string attached to a wooden rafter. It was mistletoe. How it got up there was a mystery, but it was certainly up there. And according to tradition, something which, as a Duchess, Gladys was not fond of defying, the two people standing underneath the bunch of mistletoe were obligated to share a kiss.

 

Gladys looked back down. She stared into piercing sea glass eyes.  _ Dame Chell _ . 

 

Gladys would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about kissing Chell before. But she lied all the time. It wasn’t like she couldn’t fake ignorance of Chell’s silk dark hair or vicious sharp blue eyes or soft, pink tinged lips that never smiled at her but someday she would get her to -

 

Dammit. Her eyes just flickered to those very lips. Gladys would also be lying if she didn’t think Chell had noticed that half second of inattentiveness.

 

“It’s mistletoe, you moron,” Gladys snapped.

 

“I’m not a moron. I just didn’t know what it was. So that’s what it is? Well, all right then. Someone has to share a kiss. But - but there is a problem here. There are  _ three _ of us.”

 

_ No, it’s not a problem,  _ Chell signed. She glanced at Wheatley and smirked, gently elbowing him. _ I have this all under control _ .

 

Gladys ignored the heat rushing to her pale cheeks for the second time that night. Chell actually wanted to kiss her? In front of  _ him?  _ That made it all the sweeter. Perhaps Gladys was not the only petty one at the ball tonight. 

 

She ran a hand over the tightly wound bun at the nape of her neck, smoothing her white hair down. Did she look all right? Of course she did, who was she kidding? Though Gladys had to admit that Chell looked better than her tonight. Despite Chell’s hideous dress choice. And that irritating smirk as she stepped closer -  

 

Chell placed a gloved hand on Gladys’s cheek. Gladys was paralyzed by her warm touch, her softening eyes -

 

Then their lips met and Gladys forgot all semblance of reason. It was a brief kiss, merely a press of lips and Chell’s hand gently thumbing her jawline, but Gladys knew she would remember this moment forever.

 

When Chell pulled away, she had dark red lips - Gladys’s lip tint had rubbed off on the other woman. She resisted the urge to lean back in and smear her bright red kiss all over Chell’s tawny-colored face. Their eyes met once more.

 

Chell had that indeterminable quality in her eyes again, a certain sparkle that showed she knew she had won in this game of composure. Sure, her cheeks were now tinged pink and she wore Gladys’s calling card on her lips, but Chell wasn’t the one about to faint from overheating.

 

“You actually kissed? Oh my god, I wasn’t expecting that, actually. To be honest. Thought you two hated each other. Well then. Guess I’ve been proven wrong. Very wrong.” Chell smirked, pulling away completely from Gladys and taking a few steps back.

 

“Shut up, moron,” Gladys said, putting a hand on her hip and forcing herself to relax. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her blood lightning in her veins. 

 

“Obviously you don’t know what you’re talking about. I still very much hate Chell, and she hates me -” Chell nodded with a noncommittal hand gesture, “ - but we’ve come to an arrangement for tonight. A holiday truce, you might say.  _ I _ call it  _ following tradition _ .” With that, Duchess Gladys Darcy walked right past them without looking back.

 

“Oh come on! You’re just going to leave the situation as it is?” Wheatley called after her.

 

“I’ll have you know that - that Dame Chell here would have you be aware that - what  _ would  _ you have her be aware of, love?” Gladys walked faster. She hated hearing  his voice call her that. 

 

Not like she would ever call Chell that either. No, there were other names she wanted to try soon, ones that far better suited the despicable woman. Sooner than later, of course - as in before the taste of Chell’s lips faded from her own.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was a really fun AU to write for! I never write this pairing but it's my gal pal's favorite Portal ship so I figured I'd give it a try. I'll definitely come back to this AU sometime soon in the future. Let me know what you thought of the fic in the comments! Any message is appreciated. :)


End file.
